Eye of the Storm

Chapter

Ten

THE PHONE, WHEN it rang, was a thin, discrete warble. It echoed gently off spotless tile floors and the eggshell walls that bore only abstract, thinly drawn art. After a moment, soft bare footfalls scuffed against the tile, and the phone was answered.

“Yes?”

“Ceci. Are you there?”

“Of course I am. Do you think this is the machine?” Cecilia sighed.

“What is it, Richard? I have things I have to do this morning.”

“Did you arrange to talk to Dar?”

Another sigh. “For all the good it’s going to do for either of us, yes.”

“C’mon, Cec. Give it a chance, will you? She’s not the kid you knew,” Richard Edgerton coaxed. “Do you know what she’s doing now?”

“I don’t want to know,” the slim silver blonde woman stated sharply. “Richard, we’ve been through this. I’m only doing this because I think I’m obligated to, and why in the world you’d think she’d confide or listen to me, I haven’t clue number one on.”

“You’re her mother.”

“I used to be her mother, Richard,” came the quiet response. “And even then, it didn’t work.”

The lawyer sighed. “She’s not a bad person, Ceci.”

“I don’t much care what kind of person she is, Richard. Now, if you don’t have anything else to nag me about, I’ve got things to do.”

“She’s coming here after she leaves your place,” Edgerton commented.

Cecilia frowned. “Then you already knew she was coming here?

Richard, I don’t have time for games.” She hung the phone up and straightened its position, then glanced around the spacious townhouse, with its neutral toned, spare furniture and its air of almost painful neat-ness. “I really don’t have time for this, either,” she murmured, with a tiny shake of her head.

Or, at least, she told herself that. Her eyes ran over the living room one more time before she moved into the austere kitchen and picked up a glass of vegetable juice she’d just pressed and sipped it slowly to settle her stomach. She leaned against the counter and watched out the window, putting everything out of her mind. Finally, the occasional car passing by outside became one that didn’t pass, but turned into the small 86 Melissa Good driveway instead. A rental car, with two passengers, and Cecilia closed her eyes at that. “You always do have to find the most difficult way, don’t you?”

She remained where she was as both doors opened and the two passengers emerged, then her eyes and attention focused on the taller of the two.

Richard was right about one thing.

Dar had changed.

Oh, she was recognizable, surely. The same tall, lanky frame, with its cap of dark hair, and the southern tanned skin. Those same blue eyes.

But the dynamics behind it had all changed. The sullen, somewhat gawky, truculent young adult she’d last seen had been magically replaced by this confident, self assured woman whose poised movements bespoke an athleticism she frankly thought her sometimes impatient daughter would have given up by now. Today, Dar was wearing something a little more familiar, jeans that fit snugly all down the length of her long legs and a simple cotton shirt tucked into the waistband, the short sleeves revealing powerful, toned arms.

Cecilia watched them walk up the long driveway, and finally, briefly turned her attention to her daughter’s shorter companion.

So.

This was Kerrison Stuart.

Interesting.

She straightened, then set her glass down very precisely on the counter, and spared a single moment of memory for the last time she’d seen Dar. The awkward, stumbling speech she’d cut short, divining Dar’s intent to go with her and fulfill what she mistakenly thought was her father’s responsibilities.

Just go. She’d said it simply. I don’t want you around me.

And Dar had went, after a single, timeless moment of silent regard, in which she’d seen a glimpse of a hurt almost as profound as her own had been.

Academically, that surprised her, but they hadn’t spoken since, so she hadn’t had a chance to examine what she’d caused, though in later years, she’d started to wonder just a little, what kind of person this spawn of hers had turned into.

Time to find out.

Cecilia brushed her hands off and walked into the hall, striding forward to time her hand hitting the knob of the door as the first chime dis-turbed the silence of the house.

“YOU ALL RIGHT?” Kerry asked softly, as they came up the driveway.

“Yeah,” Dar replied, desperately glad her lover was there with her.

She owed Kerry big on this one. “Shouldn’t take long.” Her eyes went to the white, neatly painted townhouse with black and gold trim. “She Eye of the Storm 87

might ask you to leave.”

Kerry’s eyebrows lifted. “Is it okay for me to tell her to kiss my ass?”

she inquired mildly.

Dar couldn’t help smiling. “It’s all right. She doesn’t know you, and God knows, she might have something she wants to say in private.” She paused. “Then again, probably not.” They got to the door and Kerry exhaled, then rang the bell.

The door opened as it sounded, and Dar’s mother stood there, dressed in a pair of soft, white cotton drawstring pants, and a silk shirt, with a delicate rose embroidery on one shoulder. She was barefoot, and even Kerry felt large next to her.

“Mother.” Dar’s voice was cool and even, with its best boardroom cordiality.

“Come in.” Cecilia pulled the door open and stepped back. “Ms. Stuart.” She inclined her head towards Kerry, who decided to kick her friendliness gene in its recalcitrant butt.

“Hello.” She let the door close behind her and looked around. “Wow.

What a nice apartment.”

“Thank you,” Dar’s mother responded politely. “Please. Sit down.”

She led them into the living room and indicated the couch.

Kerry circled the room instead, gazing at the walls. The precisely placed art hanging there had a certain geometric appeal and she decided she liked the colors. “That’s your work, isn’t it?” she asked Cecilia, not missing her lover’s slightly raised eyebrow.

Ceci had stopped on her way towards the other couch and regarded Kerry with a mildly surprised expression. “Yes, it is,” she murmured.

“Are you in the art trade, Ms. Stuart?” Her voice held a note of bemusement.

“No.” Kerry returned to Dar’s side and seated herself on the couch.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in Washington. The Museum of Art is a favorite spot of mine.” Dar’s eyebrow lifted a notch further. “You had a mini exhibit there last year.”

Cecilia felt very unsettled. “Yes, I did.” She decided to move the scene along. “Well, I would love to discuss art with you, Ms. Stuart, but there’s something I need to discuss with Paladar, so if you’d excuse us for a moment? There’s some ice tea on the porch if you’d like.” She watched the exchanged looks between the two of them, then Kerry rose.

“Not a problem,” she replied. “Dar, I’m going to go check my mail.”

“Check mine,” Dar responded, folding her arms over her chest.

Kerry walked out and the door closed behind her, leaving them looking at each other in silence.

Dar waited, having learned patience over the years and the value in letting others speak first. She studied her mother’s face, noting the new lines and the added silver in her hair, and withstood the same searching look in return.

“There’s no point in my going into long preambles, Paladar.” Ceci chose her words precisely. “I was asked by the family to speak with you 88 Melissa Good and, for reasons I can’t begin to understand, I agreed, though I certainly have no idea what good they thought it might do.”

Dar chose not to answer. She merely tilted her head to one side.

“Aunt May’s estate.” Ceci paused. “It gets signed over to you in total today.”

It was the last thing Dar expected to hear from her mother. “And?”

She injected a bit of puzzlement into her voice.

“There’s a concern. The estate might pass out of the family.” Her mother bit the words off. “To someone who is, perhaps, taking advantage of you.”

Dar blinked, going over the words two or three times. “Is that a reference to Kerry?”

“I would suppose.”

Dar felt anger easing the nervous dread out of her gut. She stood and walked to the fireplace, turned and leaned back against it. “In the first place, you can tell them from me, that I can leave my net worth to a tap dancing muskrat and they’ve got nothing to say about it.”

“Mmm.”

“In the second place, unlike Uncle Mike’s six bimbos, Kerry’s not a passing fancy.”

Dar’s mother glanced at her hands and pursed her lips.

“In the third place, her damn trust fund is four million dollars.”

Cecilia stood up, regretting getting involved to an enormous degree.

“Well, that’s the point, Paladar. It’s a large amount of money, and frankly, I would have a concern regarding your involvement with that myself.” She took a breath to continue when Dar did something very surprising.

She laughed.

Ceci gazed at her in surprise. “What exactly are you finding funny?”

“The idiocy of people who are too stupid to do some basic research.”

Dar’s amusement disappeared and she let her anger steady into a dull burn. “The incredible arrogance of you to ask me here, after not bothering to talk to me for how many years? And worry about what I’ll do with a lousy inheritance, or who I share my life with.”

“Paladar.”

“You can kiss my ass, Mother, and tell the rest of the family they can do the same.”

“It was a justifiable concern.” Her mother’s voice rose.

Dar flipped a card through the air, watching it hit her mother in the chest. “Not if you’d bothered to find out who I am now.”

Cecilia glanced impatiently at the piece of white cardboard, then stopped and read it more carefully.

Chief Information Officer? Paladar. No. She exhaled softly. Dar Roberts. Goddess. Richard must have known. I’ll have his head for not telling me.

She tasted the knowledge that she’d made a fairly huge mistake.

Question was, should she acknowledge it, or let it pass? After all, there were just so many levels of hate Dar could feel for her, right?

Eye of the Storm 89

Her eyes lifted to met a cold, angry stillness looking back, but her sense of fairness won out, and she lowered her gaze, and her voice.

“You’re right,” she finally admitted, quietly. “I’m sorry, Paladar. I should have checked before I took on the responsibility. I wouldn’t have bothered to ask you to come here.”

Ceci expected an sharp retort, something spiteful. Something nasty.

Instead, her daughter leaned back against the mantel and crossed her arms over her chest.

“It’s funny,” Dar remarked. “When you called last week, Kerry speculated that maybe you were using this whole thing as an excuse to get back in touch.”

Cecilia drew in a soundless breath.

“And I told her it was too late for that.” She paused. “I was right.”

Dar pushed off the wall and headed for the door. “Goodbye, Mother.”

Let her go. A voice advised her in mental echo. “Paladar.”

Dar kept walking, taking the two steps up in a smooth motion.

“Dar.”

Her hand on the doorknob, Dar turned and waited.

“I don’t expect you to understand what I did.” Cecilia put her slim hands on the back of the chair.

“Maybe that’s the problem,” came the soft, bitter reply. “You never thought I was capable of understanding.”

Her mother came forward, anger starting to surface. “You have no idea. You can’t begin to realize what I went through…what is it to lose half of yourself.”

“No,” Dar replied, her nostrils flaring. “But I do know what it felt like to lose the only friend I had in the world.” Her voice deepened. “The only person I could talk to. Who accepted who I was.” She paused, needing a breath. “Who loved me.” She tried to relax the lump in her throat.

“Is that good enough on your scale?”

Goddess. Cecilia suddenly felt very tired. I don’t want to deal with this. I don’t want to deal with her. Just let her go and forget about all this. Let it fade out like everything else. It was so much easier that way. “I’m sure you think so,” she murmured. “I hope for your sake, Dar, that you never find out any different.” She was too tired to dissemble. “It was cruel to you. I know that.” Her eyes lifted and met blue eyes so hauntingly familiar she had to look away. “But it was the only way I could survive.” A quiet regret settled over her and she forced herself to look back at Dar’s face, seeing a serious quietude there that unexpectedly made her see past the common stamp of her features and through to the person her daughter had become.

This was not her beloved, this tall, strange creature, who smelled of sun-warmed cotton and a light, spicy scent.

Perhaps, even that echo was gone.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said.

There was a long pause, as her daughter studied her. “So am I.”

They were quiet then the door opened and Kerry slipped inside, 90 Melissa Good blinking at the silent tableau before her. Dar reached out blindly and brought her closer by pure reflex.

“Hey.” Kerry glanced from one to the other, a hand on Dar’s back revealing an almost unbearable tension. “Everything okay in here?”

“Yeah,” Dar answered. “Seems my…family was worried you might be sponging off me.”

A blonde brow lifted. “They should hear us arguing about who gets to pay the grocery bill, then,” she remarked, slipping an arm around her lover and leaning against her. “I’m going to hurt you if you don’t stop switching that card.”

The tension relaxed a little. Cecilia sighed. “Let’s…ah, please sit down.”

“Sure.” Kerry started towards the couch, tugging Dar along with her.

They all moved down the stairs, the atmosphere uncomfortable and strained.

“So. Did you two meet at work?” Ceci fished around for something to say.

“Actually,” Kerry smiled, “Dar showed up to fire me. I managed to talk her out of it and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Really?” the older woman murmured. “Well, I’ll go get that tea.”

Cecilia walked quickly to the kitchen and sanctuary.

Kerry watched her go, a thoughtful look on her face.

SHE STOOD WITH her eyes closed and her hands on the counter while the tea steeped. It had been worse than she’d expected, but in a curious way, better at the same time. She’d thought to find Dar cold and remote, her feelings locked down tight away just like they’d always been since her teenage years.

Instead, she’d halfway seen a glimpse of a child she’d thought long lost. Part of her—most of her—wanted to forget that and she felt a definite urge to send Dar on her way and allow her life to return to its sterile peace.

Surely, it would be better for both of them. It wasn’t like Dar was in need. She’d done well. Better, to be honest, than Ceci had ever dreamed she would. She had a good life, a nice home. She seemed happy with her companion…

Footsteps made her open her eyes and turn her head to see Kerry enter the kitchen. The blonde woman paused a few feet a way and studied her.

“Can I help with that?”

Kerry’s voice was, Ceci noted, gentle and cultured, with a Midwest note in the vowels. It went with her wholesome good looks and was at distinct odds with the gleam of intense intelligence glinting off the interesting green of her eyes. “All right.”

Kerry took that as permission to approach and did so, setting a few blue tinted glasses on the small tray Ceci had taken out and adding the Eye of the Storm 91

pitcher to it.

“So.” The older woman went to the white refrigerator and retrieved some ice in a separate pitcher. “What makes you hang around the Capi-tol, Ms. Stuart?”

“My father,” Kerry replied quietly. “He’s a senator.”

Cecilia blinked, then her brows creased. “Not Roger Stuart, surely?”

Kerry nodded. “Yes.”

“Interesting.” Gray eyes studied Kerry’s face curiously. “Does he know about you and Paladar?”

Another nod. “He does.”

Ceci’s lips twitched briefly. “Not his year, hmm?” She took the pitcher and walked out, leaving Kerry to follow her with the tray.

She did with an almost silent sigh, turning the corner to see her lover standing at the window, peering out, her hands clasped behind her back.

Dar turned as they entered and leaned against the sill, the sunlight back-lighting her tall form and throwing her face into shadow. Kerry poured two glasses and picked one up, brought it over and handed it to her.

“Thanks.”

Kerry gave her belly a friendly scratch and wrinkled her nose, her back turned to Cecilia. Dar’s lips tightened and she inclined her head, then pushed off from the window and returned to the couch, sitting opposite her mother. Kerry followed her, and they sat in an uncomfortable silence, the faint tinkle of ice the only sound as they drank their tea.

Then Dar put her glass down and folded her hands together. She hesitated before speaking. “I’m glad I had a chance to say goodbye to Gran.”

Safer subject. “I promised her I’d ask you,” Cecilia remarked softly.

“She kept all your cards in a book. I know she always appreciated getting them.” She considered a moment, then stood and glided over to a chest of drawers. She put her hand on the knob of one, pulled it open, removed a large manila envelope and returned to hand it to her daughter. “You never put your return address on them. I could never mail these for her back to you.”

Dar held the package with uncertainty then put it down on her knees. “Richard knew where I was.”

Ceci nodded. “Probably. But I figured if you wanted us to know what your address was, you’d have put it down.”

“Mmm.” Dar had to acknowledge the truth of that. “Well, we need to get over and take care of things with him, then catch our flight.” She stood up with her envelope, taking in the sight of the slight, silver blonde woman seated across from her. “Take care, Mother.”

“You too,” Ceci murmured, allowing a long, guarded look into the pale blue eyes, and a single brief memory that made her heart clench and was discarded immediately. She stood and accompanied them to the door, pulled it open and waited for them to go through it.

They did, and she shut it behind them, as the silence settled comfortably around her again. She watched them out the window, though, unable to take her eyes off Dar until her daughter ducked into the passen-92 Melissa Good ger side seat and the car pulled away.

Ceci turned around and stared at the now empty room.

It was over.

She was safe. She’d fulfilled a promise and now she never had to see Dar again, if she didn’t want to.

That was good.

Wasn’t it?

It was hard to stand here, with the memories so fresh in her mind, and remember a time when it hadn’t been like this. A time before she had to look up to her daughter.

When a small child had sat on her lap and looked up at her trustingly with those big blue eyes as they watched fireworks over the cow fields, in air so thick and moist it seemed to flow over them.

It was faint, that echo. But she could, if she tried, remember loving her daughter.

Maybe, at some level, she still did.

Ceci looked around the emptiness and wished they were still here.

Painful as Dar’s presence was, there was a link there, a solid, living, breathing link, that touched her down deep in places she’d shied away from for years.

Slowly, she was drawn through the living room and into the plain bedroom, with its low, platform bed and crisp white sheets. To her right was her closet, with its seldom opened door and she stopped with her hand on the knob for a long time before her fingers turned it reluctantly, and she pulled the door open, closing her eyes as the scent hit her.

Why?

Why do this?

In that moment she hated Dar all over again.

But her feet carried her inside and she simply stood, letting the memories surround her as her fingers touched remembered wool and her eyes drank in the rich colors and remembered shapes of what was once her life.

His things. Their things. Neatly folded clothes in the blues and greens he’d preferred.

The chest with their wedding gifts, carefully packed away and saved, most from the friends they’d made in the south or his service buddies.

Dar’s cradle and the baby blanket, a gift from her mother.

It smelled of wool, from his uniforms and old polish, mixed with the faint tang of oil. She ran a shaking finger down a perfectly starched sleeve, then laid her cheek against it, feeling the scratchiness of the fabric and remembering what it had felt like with a living, breathing body inside.

Her legs folded and she sat down on a box full of remnants, carefully hoarded and stored away here. She picked up the soft, cheerful quilt that had once covered their bed and pulled it around her shoulders, tears hitting her knees as she hugged it to her, burying her face in the fabric.